


an exercise in futility

by lenticularprint



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Angst, Augmentations Kink, CASIE fic, Consent Issues, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sex Pollen, Touch-Starved, Truth Serum, because that aug is terrifying when you think about it, inappropriate use of the rebreather aug, the title is Drake's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-03-20 02:51:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18983719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenticularprint/pseuds/lenticularprint
Summary: It's standard procedure for officers to go through anti-CASIE training at least every few years. Miller needs a brush-up, and Adam's the only aug around with a social enhancer. He's just helping Miller out. And this definitely, absolutely won't go wrong or unearth any hidden truths. Right.





	an exercise in futility

Adam’s still working through the paperwork on London when he looks up at the sound of Macready swearing. Not that unusual, but he’s pretty sure he saw Miller heading into Macready’s office. And he’s also pretty sure by now that Miller isn’t an Illuminati tool, or the poisoning wouldn’t have happened, but… old habits die hard. He tilts his head, focuses. His hearing’s better than it was before he was augmented, and even then, it was above average. Now… a soundproof confidentiality door and some darkened EGO glass are nothing. And he’s kind of glad that fact isn’t in his file.  
  
“You  _what?”_  Macready’s demanding.  
  
“Look, it was a few years back. I haven’t had time to get a refresher yet.” Just like always, Miller’s facepalm is audible.  
  
“They’ve put out the version three since that. No, fuck that, they put out the version three  _three years ago_. You need to sort that out.”  
  
“Yes,  _sir,_ ” Miller says drily.  
  
“Just go and ask our resident milspec. He’ll have the latest installed. He’s got the latest everything installed.”  
  
Adam’s eyebrows raise, and he looks back to the pile of papers on his desk. He frowns. What the hell -   
  
“There has to be someone else. He’s already done enough.” Miller sighs, and even though they’re only a couple hours into the day, he sounds like he wants to go home and sleep.   
  
Adam can’t blame him. He’s barely gotten back, and he’s still not allowed on field ops. Adam’s not supposed to know that, but he caught Macready muttering about it. But this… this is something else. He tilts his head.   
  
Macready snorts. “If you can find them, sure. But far as I know, we’ve got one aug who’d have the right setup and actually give you half a challenge. And you’re the one who thought your CASIE training needed brushing up.”  
  
Miller says, quietly, “That was before I thought it through."

Huh. Miller hasn’t really spoken to him in… awhile, to say the last, outside of hasty, _go and get the next perp_ debriefs. Asked him once if he’d been to see Auzenne, and that was the nearest they came to bringing up the thing with the Orchid. He’s wondered if something’s up, but then he figured that after London, they both needed a little space. Or that they were both busy as hell. But, and damned if he doesn’t hate to admit it, Macready’s right. There _is_ no-one else, unless Miller can think of some connection scattered to the wind. He seems to have them pretty much everywhere.  
  
“You ought to. Just my opinion. The game's changed, we're going on ops that need people with decent mindfuck resistance. You're compromised, the whole team's compromised. I’d normally leave it, but you’ve nearly died once recently.”  
  
“Noted,  _agent._ ” Miller’s stone-wall tone is enough to make Adam sigh and try to work. He guesses that discussion’s done.

He pretends not to notice when the door opens; he got pretty good at a _nothing to see here_ poker face in his years as a cop, and it’s only gotten easier with the shields.

But then there are footsteps heading toward his desk, and he tries not to visibly tense. Miller exhales. “Jensen.”  
  
He looks up, trying not to show his surprise. “Director?”  
  
Miller looks drawn, pale. And Adam’s pretty sure that anyone else, someone without years of special forces training and wading through political bullshit, would be fidgeting. “I’ve got a favour to ask.”

 

 

  
  
And that’s how they end up in the gym – like Adam’s gonna persuade him by benchpressing him – with Miller watching him, hawk-eyed, arms crossed. “You’re not getting anything out of me,” Miller says. Same as the last few times.  
  
“Shit,” Adam sighs. He rubs at his forehead, laughs a little. “You’re pretty hard to crack.”  
  
Miller takes a swig from a water bottle. He snorts. “Now you sound like my ex.” He freezes, like he realises what he’s just said. “Maybe that thing is working after all.” He shrugs off his jacket, tosses it onto a bench. “You still haven’t gotten the codes, though.”  
  
The set codes, the strings of numbers or example passcodes they use for CASIE training. Been a while for Adam, too, but he knows that with phrases Chang goes for the weirder, the better. Last time was  _The Ark of the Covenant,_  and sure, everyone’s seen that movie, but he still doesn’t want to know the explanation for  _drop the dead donkey._ It used to confuse him when Chang’s normally so paranoid, but he guesses this a security tech’s idea of relaxation. And maybe Chang’s trying to crack them up a little.  
  
Adam tilts his head. In harder cases… He guesses he’s going for plan B. He tries not to sigh again, and then there’s the  _snikt_  of the shields retracting.  
  
Miller blinks. He hesitates, just slightly, brow furrowing.   
  
Adam realises abruptly that Jim probably hasn’t seen his eyes since London. The memory makes a prickle of discomfort, of something too much, go up his spine, and he pushes it away. He watches for the tell-tale unaugmented discomfort. A lot of people can’t meet his gaze, and they think that his left ear is safer, or there’s something just over his shoulder that’s suddenly really goddamn interesting. He was the same, first time he looked in a mirror.  
  
But Miller just looks at him with surprise, and a sharp curiosity. For all the guy pretends to be a block of concrete, he’s got a soldier’s face, not a politician’s; sometimes stuff slips through, no matter how hard he tries. It was one of the first things Adam noticed when he joined TF29, and back when he thought the Illuminati were pulling the strings, he figured it had to be cultivated, that people probably paid a lot for the tired-honesty look. Now he realises it’s just… who Miller is. That should make this easier, but there’s a core of – something he can’t quite crack -   
  
The CASIE pings. New readings. He consults it for a second, and sees  _Accelerated heart rate, slight vasodilation._  Makes sense. Even he finds CASIE training damn uncomfortable, having to stand and watch someone pry around in your head, and maybe Jim’s a little more bothered by the unnaturalness of the eye augs than he’s letting show.  
  
Adam tries not to let that thought cross his face, and says, “Works better with eye contact. Like a lot of interpersonal augs.” It comes out sounding too much like an apology.  
  
Miller nods, swallows. “Right. Sure.”  
  
“So, uh. Round five?” Adam adjusts for feedback and leans into the CASIE a little, letting the emitter do its thing.  
  
Miller pulls the codesheet from his pocket, frowns at it and then folds it and slips it back, hands swift.  
  
“You got it?” Adam asks.  
  
Miller nods, and then grimaces. “God, I remember doing this on long car journeys.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I thought ‘guess a number’ couldn’t get any more tedious.”   
  
Adam huffs a laugh. “Yeah. We used to pull it on long stakeouts if we wanted to drive each other crazy.”  
  
“At least your colleagues weren’t two bored kids.”  
  
Adam tries not to blink at that. He isn’t meant to know it, after all. He tries to recover his face. “Yeah. Kids would’ve had an excuse for how dumb a bunch of Detroit cops acted.”  
  
Miller looks a little surprised, too. He clears his throat. “Right. Let’s get on with this.”  
  
“Sure. New code?”  
  
Miller just tilts his head and raises a brow. Stays silent. Then he says, “How many more times do we have to do this?”  
  
Adam just stares back, levelly. “Until you give in.” He presses on the CASIE and his knowledge of Miller, then. “You know, sooner you give me the codes, the sooner we can get out of here. Get back to work.”  
  
Miller snorts. “Nice try. Though I’ve got to admit” - he tugs at his collar “ - that sounds pretty good right about now. The techs need to sort out that bloody air-con.”  
  
“No-one’d think less of you. You’re with the crazy prototype milspec aug, no-one’s gonna last. So maybe it’s three minutes less than you would’ve - “  
  
Something crosses Miller’s face – something like temptation - and then he steels himself. “I’d think less of me. Now stop trying to throw me off.”  
  
Adam half-grins, with the hint of a shrug. “Kinda my job,” he says, apologetically.  
  
Miller glares at him, and then almost looks amused. “Yeah. It is. Now stop being a prick about it.”  
  
Adam huffs a laugh. “You asked me to do this, not a robot.” He sobers, and tries another tack, going harder for the pheromone release. He wishes he’d used it more often, felt it all out and gotten used to it; he’s always avoided this aug until he really needs it, and he’s regretting it now. “But you know me. I’ve made enough breaches of protocol you haven’t nailed me to the wall for. I’m not gonna report you because you shortened a training exercise. Not if it meant you could get back to the important work. No-one’d believe me anyway.”  
  
“You’re as bored as me?”  
  
Adam half-sighs. “I have a CASIE. Doesn’t mean I enjoy using it. And I don’t want a mission getting screwed because we were standing in a goddamn gym playing mind games.”  
  
That temptation crosses Miller’s face, even stronger. He grimaces. “For fuck’s sake. And I don’t want people dying because whatever piece of shit we’re fighting this week had a CASIE and compromised me.”  
  
Adam relents and tries his best to sound encouraging.“It’ll get easier. You’ll get more resistant once you know how to spot it.”  
  
Jim shrugs. “Yeah, well.” He exhales, and glares at the air-con units. “Jesus. It’s still too hot in here.”  
  
Adam frowns. “Hadn’t noticed.” And here he always figured augs ran hot. Sure, he’s got temperature adjusters to prevent overheating, but he would’ve noticed if they kicked in.  
  
Jim pauses and looks like he’s debating with himself. Then he says, “Sorry.”  
  
Adam shakes his head and waves a hand. _Go ahead._  
  
The vest goes first. Jim drags his sweater off, and a little of his shirt rolls up with it.   
  
Adam blinks and tries not to stare at pale scars and tensing muscle and what looks like an old bullet wound. He realises that he wouldn’t be surprised if Jim’s taken a bullet for someone at least once. His gaze takes in and then skates past an old burn, and he absently follows the line of hair downward -  
  
Then Jim’s putting the sweater on a gymnastics horse, and Adam’s looking away, wondering what the hell’s wrong with him. His ears are hot. He feels like he’s almost been caught doing something wrong, but it’s not like he was checking out his boss. That’d be -   
  
Alright, so things have been kinda weird since London. Probably the stress. Or saving someone’s life can screw with your head. It worked with Megan, after all; it was how they met, and… four damn years. Damn. He doesn’t want to be making that comparison. They’re both dry and too damn committed to the work, though. Even if Megan was less honest.  
  
Jim unbuttons his cuffs. “If you’re going to prod around in my head” - he rolls his sleeves up, pops his collar - “I might as well be comfortable.”  
  
Adam raises a brow. He tries not to watch Miller’s arms flex, or notice the line of his throat, the rougher patches where he must have shaved this morning but it’s already starting to grow back. Or to wonder how the hell Jim looks in the mornings when he’s himself and he’s forgotten to put the suit and the tired professionalism on. It’s… kind of an interesting road to go down.  
  
Adam’s dragging himself out of that thought when Jim says, “You alright?"  
  
Adam swallows and tries to make sure his eyes aren't anywhere they shouldn’t be. "Yeah. Fine. I just guess I'm gonna have to try harder."

Adam’s dragging himself out of that thought when Miller says, “There’s something I’ve meant to ask you since London. It’s - “ He looks sharply away. “No. Nothing.” _  
  
_Maybe that’s his resistance wearing down, or the embarrassment is useable. Adam can’t help himself. “No, ask.” _  
  
“_It doesn’t – It isn’t right. It’s a stupid question.”  _  
  
“_I somehow doubt that.” Adam’s voice is dry. “Try me.” _  
  
_Miller takes a second to speak. Then he says, eyes flickering significantly to Adam’s, “I know a lot of people have… input on the design. You choose those, or get given them?” _  
  
_It takes Adam a second to figure out what Miller means. Then he blinks, once. His jaw tenses. “Got shot in the head.” He sees something like surprise cross Miller’s face – his file has that there was an attack, but not the details – and he ploughs on, “Optic nerve situation wasn’t great. Wasn’t much left. Put these in while I was still in the coma.” _  
  
_Jim blinks. “Jesus. I’m sorry. Thanks for telling me.” He looks away sharply. “It wasn’t fair of me to ask.” _  
  
_Adam tries not to flinch. There’s a wave of coldness washing through him, and… yeah, he guesses honesty has its downsides. Anyone else he’d expect it from, but he guesses he’d thought… something stupid. That Jim didn’t care, maybe. “I know they can be a little…” He swallows, licks his lips. “...creepy,” he says, too honestly. Shit. He didn’t mean - _  
  
_Maybe it’s the way Jim’s looking at him. Maybe it’s London, because once you’ve watched someone come close to death something like this is small-fry. Because he can see Jim’s collarbones and the beginning of chest hair under the shirt, the old scars on his forearms, and this isn’t any other day in the office. And it’ll be a relief to hear someone finally goddamn say it rather than hearing it whispered around offices, to have someone finally be honest with him. Jim’s always done been as honest as he can. _  
  
_And Jim says, shifting uncomfortably, “That’s… not the word I was going to use.” Jim’s eyes meet his again. “I’ve seen a lot of eye augs, in my time. Never seen any like yours. They must be pretty special.” _  
  
_Adam snorts. “Yeah. I’m a regular show model.” He cocks his head. “What word were you gonna use?” _  
  
_Jim shakes his head, eyes skating to the floor, and Adam knows he’s onto something; if he has to be uncomfortable, then hell, both of them can be uncomfortable. That discomfort might break the wall and get Jim to give up the more important stuff. And alright, maybe Adam’s being a little petty. It’s been a long few weeks and he knows Jim’s been avoiding him since London.  _  
  
_And yeah, maybe he wondered if what happened in that kitchen was part of it. He knew he shouldn’t have taken down the shades, and he gets called insubordinate enough, but… everyone else freaks out and backs down when he tries to be honest with them. He figured he should’ve expected one more. When Macready, of all people, dragged them out for “thank-fuck-we-survived drinks, get a round in” he caught Jim looking at him a couple times, something like curiosity and uncomfortable realisation on his face. But every time he turned his head, it was gone. He figured he was imagining it until he caught it happening a third time. Somewhere along the way he realised that since Ji – Miller came back from recup leave, he’s barely seen him outside of briefings and getting chewed out for whatever vent he slipped through or gangster he talked to this time. _  
  
_Screw hiding and professional avoidance. It feels like everything he's done since he came to TF29 has been centred around lies. It’s not like he can make it worse. _  
  
_He takes a step forward and tries to fix this. “It’s alright. Can’t be worse than half the ones I think every morning.” _  
  
_Jim pauses, and stares at him. “Jesus. You really – you think you’re ugly?” Adam wants to shrink under the expression on Jim’s face, the horror. And it turns to something like… wonder. Jim searches his face and says quietly, “You’ve got no fucking idea, have you?” _  
  
_Adam stares back, surprised heat prickling up his spine, into his face. Because that almost sounds like… The CASIE gives him: sadness, and underneath that, something… that can’t be right. He tries to recalibrate while he says, “I… Jim.” _  
  
_Jim’s still watching him, wide-eyed. “You act like you’re made of stone. Stone and...” He waves a hand. “Whatever that is. Surgical steel.” _  
  
_Adam shrugs. “It’s the job.” He can’t help but rise to it; Jim just has that effect on him, he guesses. It’s been like that since the start. “And you don’t?” _  
  
“_That’s different. I’m a washed-up pencil-pusher. I couldn’t even fight back when they poured poison down my throat.” Jim puts his head in his hands, drags his hands through his hair. “Ten years ago I wouldn’t have… I shouldn’t even be in the field. You’ve got a life to worry about.” _  
  
“_Bullshit.” Adam advances, slowly. “You’re still a better shot than Mac. Strategic as hell. And you’re a good man.” _  
  
_“Don’t. Don’t say things like that to me.” At first Adam figures it’s  _don’t patronise me_ \- that one he’s heard enough times - but there’s something softer and more afraid in it. Something he’s never heard before. _  
  
_Adam soldiers on, “Most honest CO I’ve had.” _  
  
_Jim snorts, humourlessly. “ _Honest.”_ He looks up. “You know what I was going to say about your eyes?”  _  
  
_There’s something furious and despairing in his tone. Adam just shakes his head, steeling himself, not sure he wants to hear the answer. Knowing suddenly that he shouldn’t have asked. _  
  
_Jim winces, shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Beautiful.” He sighs. “I was going to say… beautiful. Maybe that’s just because they’re yours.  _Fuck.”  
  
“_Huh.” Adam just... stares, and tries to find the words. “Jim...” _  
  
_He looks up, face resignation and humiliation and tightly-controlled fury. “For fuck’s sake, you know that was unethical. The whole fucking _idea_ of CASIE is unethical. You don’t have to be an arsehole about it.” _  
  
_Adam’s heart is hammering. It has been for a while. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.” And then he asks, because he’s too aware of Jim’s hands clenching at his sides, the tightly-controlled tension in his body, and there has to be some way he can fix this: "Because they’re... mine?” And maybe it’s because people don’t say that kind of thing. Not to him. Not outside ads or ARC posters or crazy dreams after too much scotch. _  
  
_Jim looks up sharply. “You know why.” When Adam shakes his head, just slightly, he says incredulously, “Because your face, they’re expressive, and because you’re…You’re not stupid, you know you’re – All of you’s – I don’t mean the augs. There aren’t many men out there who look like you. That was before you saved a mission and a few hundred lives. For God’s sake, you saved  _me_.”  _  
  
_This was never the truth he meant to drag out. Adam stares helplessly. “I. Uh. Thanks.”  _  
  
“_I’m a professional, not blind.” Jim winces, horror crossing his face. “Oh, fuck.” _  
  
_Heart rate spiking. _  
  
_Adam swallows. “Jim… Boss. It’s no big deal. Won’t be the first time for either of us.” _  
  
_When Jim speaks, the words sound like they’re being dragged out of him, and his voice is desperate, desolate as he asks, “What the hell’ve you done to me?” _  
  
“_The CASIE?” No. But… oh, no. “Shit. I didn’t mean to...” Adam takes a step forward and reaches out a hand, touches Jim’s arm. He feels feverish skin under the shirt, held-taut muscle, and Jim’s eyes close, his mouth opening -  _  
  
_Jim backs up, sharply, until he’s against the wall. “Get the fuck away from me.”  _  
  
_Adam does instantly. He puts his hands up, gives Jim space. “Don’t want me to touch you, right. Sure.” _  
  
“_That’s not it.” Jim winces. “I do. I...” He leans against the wall and mutters, “God help me, I want you to touch me far too much.” Jim’s head falls back against the wall, and Adam tries not to stare as his throat works. He says bleakly, “ _Pheromonal persuasion_. Jesus Christ.” He rubs a shaking hand over his face. “Who the fuck thought that was a good idea?” _  
  
_The CASIE beeps with an urgent new notification, and Adam finally pays attention for the first time in too long. _  
  
Desire, _the CASIE says.  _Fear. **Desire, desire, desire.**_

Oh, shit.

Adam stares helplessly. And underneath his own cold fear, there’s a heat, growing slowly under his own skin. This was meant to be a crazy fantasy he tried not to have in his apartment to get away from the nightmares, when he couldn’t sleep. When he was thinking of how Jim said his name. It was never meant to be…   
  
“I want that all the time.” Jim looks up, and his eyes are bereft. Then they turn desperate, dark. His eyes rove over Adam like he’s drinking him in.   
  
“Jim...” Adam manages. It comes out too rough.  
  
“How much’ve you drugged me with?”  
  
Adam checks his HUD. “It’s only a medium-high dose, they don’t usually affect people like this. I swear to God. How d’you feel?”  
  
Jim looks up, and behind the helpless, simmering fury is… something else. Something else in the darkness of his eyes, the flush under his jaw.   
  
Adam drags his eyes away as Jim says, “You’ve dosed me with goddamn pheromones. How the fuck do you think I feel?”  
  
“They don’t normally – I’m sorry. Not unless there’s...” Adam swallows, and says with slow realisation, watching the dawning horror on Jim’s face, “Unless there’s… pre-existing interest.” He shoves that aside, because he has to be wrong.  
  
“You’ve dosed me with pheromones and you’re asking me about what I – what I feel for - “ He drags his hands down his face. “This is why I didn’t want to do this.”  
  
“Jim, we can fix this.”  
  
“Don’t  _call_  me that!” Jim puts his face in his hand and mumbles miserably, “God, you smell good.”  
  
Adam tries to keep his voice level, but he knows it’s shaking. “There was never anything in the literature about the CASIE making people feel… things. Guess I need to update the manual. I’ll talk to Phillips - ”  
  
“ _It’s not the fucking CASIE.”_  
  
Adam falls silent.  
  
Jim’s pale, wide-eyed and breathing harshly. “...Jesus Christ. You’d better reverse this  _right fucking now.”_  
  
“I – Ji – Sir?”  
  
“The CASIE’s just making me _say_ it. It wasn’t meant to be like this. I didn’t want to  _want_  - ” He swallows. “You can get me fired after this. I should be, after this fucking mess.” He drags his hands through his hair, face twisting.  
  
Jesus. Adam crosses the space between them, because he can’t listen to this any more and it’s his goddamn fault. All of this is his fault.  
  
“Jim, I’m not gonna report you.”  
  
“You should. I figured I’d probably retire after the mess at Apex, but I can speed it up.”  
  
“Jim, it’s alright. I promise.”   
  
“ _No, it fucking isn’t!”_  And then Jim falls silent, abruptly glancing downward.  
  
Adam only realises his hand’s closed around Jim’s when he feels the heat of his skin.  
  
Jim stares at their clasped hands. Swallows. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”  
  
“I...” Adam tries to say that it’s just Jim’s imagination, or that they’re both professionals and this shouldn’t matter. He opens his mouth, and nothing comes out.  
  
Jim’s eyes are wide. “Oh, fuck. No.” But even as he says it his hand’s tightening around Adam’s, bringing him closer.   
  
Adam’s letting himself get reeled in slowly, before he even really knows it’s happening. This close he can feel the heat of Jim’s body, almost feverish even next to the warmth of the augs. He leans into it before he can help himself, because human warmth is… it’s been a long, long time, and this is a man he...  
  
Jim looks at him in surprise and some kind of realisation. Then he says, voice soft, “How long’s it been since someone touched you?”  
  
Adam blinks, and licks his lips. He watches Jim’s eyes follow the motion. He doesn’t know why he answers. “Few years. Since, uh. Detroit. Before the augs.”  
  
“That’s a fucking tragedy.”  
  
“I didn’t think anyone – uh.” Adam swallows, and tries not to feel like he’s been stripped bare. The look on Jim’s face shivers down Adam’s spine, makes his eyes stray to Jim’s lips before he drags them away.  
  
“Who wouldn’t want you?” Jim says, voice deep and dark. He reaches out and clasps the side of Adam’s neck. His hand is warm, strong, the skin a little rough; the way Adam always imagined it at 3 AM when London was a jumble of sense memories and there was one person in this whole clusterfuck he was starting to trust. Starting to want. When he remembered a hand firm on his shoulder, or his arm, or Jim silently, swiftly disassembling a rifle in the VTOL home while he pretended not to watch.  
  
Even with the callouses and the roughness of Jim’s voice, his touch is gentler than Adam ever expected. Adam feels himself leaning into it, head tilting to bare his neck. Jim’s thumb strokes under his jaw, over his beard, traces briefly over his Adam’s apple. Adam shivers.  
  
Jim says quietly, “I can’t reprimand you when I’m thinking of your fucking mouth. And I’ve seen what you do in the field, you could just overpower me like it’s nothing, and that shouldn’t be - I shouldn’t want that.”  
  
Adam exhales, shakily. “You… you’re not afraid of that?”  _Of me_ , they both hear clearly.  
  
Jim just watches him, eyes sharp. “I trust your hands. I told you, I trust you. You remember?”  
  
“When they nearly goddamn killed you? Yeah, I remember.”  
  
“After, I… couldn’t stop thinking about you. Still can’t. That night everyone got drinks and they finally got you to laugh, I thought…” Jim drags his eyes away from Adam, grimaces. “Oh,  _Christ._  I think I’m going insane.”  
  
“Yeah.” Adam huffs a laugh. “Yeah, that’s… familiar.” He sobers. “Jim, I shouldn’t know any of this. You’ll hate me when this wears off.”  
  
Jim swallows and then says with a rough laugh of his own, “I don’t know if I could. I thought you were an arrogant prick at first, but I…  _Adam._ ” His hand strokes over Adam’s face, uncertain.  
  
It’s that softness that breaks him. Adam sways forward, mouth opening -   
  
The CASIE beeps.  
  
Adam remembers. He nearly jumps, drags himself away. “This is the CASIE.”  
  
“I don’t think I care,” Jim says, gravel-rough, before he tilts Adam’s head down and kisses him.  
  
Adam takes a startled breath. Jim just uses it to coax his mouth open, and Adam responds, helplessly. The kiss is hot and deep and it feels… He’d forgotten it could be like this. Adam inhales and feels it catch on a moan. He realises when he feels fabric that his fingers are tightening in Jim’s shirt. He thinks, before he can help it, of  _I trust your hands._  
  
Jim drags him closer and Adam goes with it. He half-tenses, waiting for the backing up and people not wanting to get caged-in by the aug, but Jim’s hands just twist in Adam’s turtleneck to close the gap between them, and then Jim’s fingers spread like he wants to feel everything, to map Adam out. Adam makes a soft, startled groan when he feels Jim’s erection, his hand falling to the wall to catch himself. He’s lightheaded at how good it feels, how good  _Jim_  feels, at the way Jim licks into his mouth like he isn’t sure whether to let the desperation take over or whether to savour every second of it. It’s too much. It isn’t enough. Adam never realised this was under the stuffed-shirt repression and he thinks he’s drowning in it. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t known how much Jim was keeping in check. He never expected -   
  
He starts to lose the thought when Jim kisses him again. It recedes far away when he feels those warm, rough hands slide under his shirt. They hit the metal at his waist and don’t even pause, just trace over it curiously, hungrily, until Jim’s palms are skating up Adam’s back. Adam takes a shuddering breath, control a distant memory. He lets the hand he’s leaning on clench. He only realises how much when he feels concrete start to give.  
  
_Ping._  
  
_No._    
  
Jim drags himself away. “Tell me you aren’t humouring me,” he pants. “Or that that stuff hasn’t affected you, too.”  
  
Adam stares back, breathless. “This is real,” he admits.  
  
Jim’s breath is hot against his neck. “Better than I imagined. God, I fucking want you.”  
  
“Jim - “ Adam tries to warn. He backs away. “Jim,  _stop._ ”  
  
Jim blinks at him and then wrenches himself away, hands against the wall. He grits his teeth. “I misread this?”  
  
“No, I just… you’re drugged.”  
  
Jim swallows, head falling back against the wall. He pants, “There is that.” He sounds less and less like he cares.  
  
Adam says, voice shaking, “I’m not gonna do this with someone who’s out of their mind. I wouldn’t.”  
  
Jim growls. “I’m honest, not high.”  
  
Adam looks doubtfully at the way Jim’s still breathless and watching him like he wants to do everything and anything. Tries not to stare a little.  
  
Jim looks to the ceiling and exhales. His eyes flutter shut. He sighs, “You’re just going to look, aren’t you?”  
  
“There has to be a way to fix this. This is my fault, I - “  
  
“The Stanislaw case.” A little of Jim’s exhaustion is coming through, and for a second he’s almost the tired guy in the office again. The one Adam didn’t know kissed like… that. Even if he’d started to wonder, sometime after he started noticing sharp eyes and tired laughter -   
  
Adam tries to ignore that thought and manages, “Huh. The one in Lyon?”  
  
Jim doesn’t open his eyes, just licks his lips and says, “Yeah. That was the last time I got dosed with this. I shook it off then, but… remember du Coeur?”  
  
Adam tries to follow the train of thought. Looks at the wall so he won’t stare at sweaty skin or flexing hands or the way Jim’s still tenting his slacks. He knows he has to be nearly as bad. He wracks his brain.“…When we took someone in for screwing around with social enhancers?”  
  
Jim nods. “It was like this. A few of the people who got caught in it were already… interested. Got blindsided. Just sometimes, the pheromones can take differently. I did a lot of reading.” He looks at Adam, then. “You’re immune to most CASIEs because you’ve got one, aren’t you?”  
  
Adam stares into eyes that are nearly black. “Yeah. No-one ever got to use one on me before the augs, either.”  
  
“Then you don’t know how bad it is.” Jim winces at a wall. “I haven’t felt like this in... years.”  
  
Adam echoes the grimace, reflexively. “Jesus. I’m sorry. This is my fault. I don’t use it much. It always feels wrong, unless I’ve got no other choice.”  
  
Jim snorts. “Yeah, I can see why.”  
  
“Guess I underestimated what I could do. It’ll wear off,” Adam tries, still wincing.  
  
“You're not  _listening_  to me. Not if this is one of those fringe cases.” Jim stands there, chest heaving. “Christ. I can’t think. And it’ll be like this for hours.”  
  
“Could you… uh...” Adam tries not to make the hand gesture that comes to mind. Or look at Jim’s dick. Or think of… “Take the edge off?”  
  
Jim shakes his head. “Doesn’t work if you’re on your own. They tried, there’s literature on it. Jesus fucking  _Christ_ , Adam, I've done the maths.”  
  
“There someone you’d… uh…?”  
  
Jim doesn’t look away from the wall over Adam’s shoulder. Shakes his head again. “No-one I could trust with this. Who the fuck would  _want_  to - “  
  
“Me.” Adam realises he’s said it too late, and he can’t take it back. He adds quietly, “I could help you out.”  
  
Jim stares at him.  
  
Adam swallows, and tries to sound casual. “If that's really what you want. If there’s no other way.”  
  
“If I – “ Jim takes a deep breath. He grits out, “Adam. I can barely keep my hands off you.”  
  
“We’ve got this place for another hour.” A quiet ping from the CASIE. Adam ignores it, already knowing what it’ll say, and crosses the distance between them. “You trust me?”  
  
“I told you. You know I do. But you've been telling me no, I’m not going to make you - ”  
  
Jim’s cut off when Adam kisses him. He falls back against the wall and groans low in his throat, rising to meet it. Sometime in all that his hands slip under Adam’s shirt again, and Adam’s pressing forward to kiss him deep and desperate before rocking back to meet each trace on his skin, every time Jim’s fingers tense. He wants to be embarrassed about how he drinks in every touch, but it feels too good and he knows that of all people, Jim isn’t going to laugh at him.   
  
Adam drags himself back, panting, but only to give a twist of his hand and short out the intellicams, take out the footage from the last few minutes. He locks the doors, too – just a basic override, anything further and Chang’ll be in his ear demanding to know what the hell’s going on.  
  
Jim stares at him, and then his hand. “ _Jesus.”_  
  
Adam just leans back in to mouth at the scar at Jim’s chin, then under his jaw. He realises at Jim’s shaky, exhaled “Ah,  _fuck_ ” and the way Jim’s hand clenches on his back that he’s grinding against him, rocking desperately to find friction. Jim’s hands stray down his back until they’re grabbing his ass and pulling him in.  
  
“ _Adam...”_  In Jim’s voice, it’s a half-desperate rasp that shudders down Adam’s spine, and he knows he’ll never be able to unhear it. He wonders how the hell they're meant to survive in the office after this. Jim’s head falls back, his eyes closing. He breathes, “This is a bad idea.”  
  
“Yeah.” Adam raises his head. “You want me to stop?”  
  
And suddenly Jim’s sharp-eyed solidity again, moving faster than Adam expected; his hands tense, pulling Adam closer. “Don’t you dare.”  
  
Adam kisses his throat, and then pulls back.   
  
“What are you - ?”  
  
He’s not gonna tease, not when Jim’s half out of his mind. He falls to his knees, not caring about the hard wooden floor. Perks of metal legs.  
  
“Oh.” Jim exhales, shakily, hands going back to the wall. He swallows.  
  
Adam matter-of-factly unzips Jim’s pants and frees his dick from his underwear. It’s flushed and hard, and Jim makes the softest sound of relief. Adam glances up at him, and then takes it into his mouth.  
  
“Oh,  _fuck._ ” Jim inhales, shoulders going taut and his hands white-knuckled against the wall, thighs trembling. He stares down at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving.  
  
Adam raises a brow.  _You alright?_  
  
“Christ, you’re...” Jim looks away, panting. “It’s been a long time. I’m not gonna last.”  
  
Adam pulls off to grin at him and admits, “Yeah. Gonna look forward to watching you come.”  
  
Jim makes a small, strangled noise at that.   
  
Adam waits for the flinch or the hesitation when he strokes a hand up Jim’s thigh. Part of him wants to bask in it, touching someone else. Touching Jim. He feels strong muscle jump and licks his lips, touch turning exploratory. He drags himself out of it when he notices the dark, sterile gleam of metal against Jim’s paler skin, and knows Jim’s watched him break through walls with these things. He figures that tensing might’ve been fear, maybe he misread this -  
  
Jim just watches his fingers, almost hypnotised - and then Jim’s eyes meet his.  
  
Adam hesitates, uncertain if that’s wariness and knowing enough people are going to hesitate at having augs near their dick.  
  
“Adam,” Jim says. And it’s soft. Pleading. His dick twitches. He’s breathing heavily, eyes half-lidded, and teeth gritted, and he looks like he’s one step away from begging.  
  
Adam gets his hand around Jim’s dick, and the punched-out breath he gets for it, the way Jim’s eyes close, makes him smile. After that, he has his mouth full.  
  
He’s never done this with the augs. Not that he didn’t want to; before, Megan used to joke that he was obsessed with getting on his knees. Hell, he’s only jerked off occasionally with them, though that got more comfortable after awhile, but he hasn’t wanted to pick someone up casually and he figured even if he had, no-one would trust him with them. Who the hell would want cold, clinical hands that were weapons and shitty at anything else? He figured it’d just be a fetish for some people.  
  
He didn’t count on Jim, who watches him dark-eyed and open-mouthed like this is everything he wanted and he figures he’s probably dreaming. And breathes, “ _Adam,_ ” like it’s a prayer.  
  
He sets a quick rhythm and tries to tell himself that this isn’t… something else. That he isn’t savouring the slick slide and Jim’s ragged breathing; that he isn’t fighting not to slow down just to feel the warmth of Jim’s skin and try to see what other noises he can get out of him. That watching Jim lose control isn’t doing something to him. He looks away and tries to stay sane.  
  
He shuts his eyes and lets himself have the feeling, the softness and heat of the skin in his mouth and under his hand. He licks, teases under the head, and Jim exhales shakily, hips twitching.   
  
Adam tastes the saltiness of precome and tries not to feel his own dick pressing against his combats. Just the rub against the fabric is torture. Every hitching breath he gets from Jim, echoing against hardwood and metal, is like a touch, and he feels like he’s on a hair-trigger. He’s not a goddamn teenager but it’s been a long time, and it wasn’t… God, it’s _Jim_.

The few times he let the idea creep into his head, he imagined… he doesn’t know. A proper bed, maybe. Or the adrenaline rush after a mission. He never imagined this, or that it’d feel so good. And he never figured he’d have his boss panting and trembling above him. He looks up, still kind of uncertain this is really happening.

Jim’s biting his knuckles, muffling the soft noises he’s making against his hand. His eyes are closed, and he looks like he’s either just been blessed or cursed.  
  
Adam feels his own hips jerk at the sight, but he wants… He pulls back, kisses Jim’s balls, his thigh, and then says, “Look like you’re gonna draw blood.” His voice is already rougher than usual. He'd forgotten how much he missed this.  
  
Jim swiftly takes the hand away from his mouth, obviously embarrassed. “Old habits,” he mutters, still somehow managing to look pissed off with himself even while he’s panting and has his slacks halfway down his thighs. Still between his legs, Adam almost cracks up at that, and gets a flat look. Jim says, “I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk.” His voice is low and breathless, but instead of annoyance, there’s something softer there. Something curious. His eyes search Adam’s face.  
  
“The soundproofing here’s pretty good.”  
  
Jim opens his mouth to protest. Tilts his head. He says with slow realisation, “You want to hear, don’t you?”  
  
Adam feels the beginning of embarrassment. He swallows. Then he admits,“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”  
  
He gets Jim’s dick back in his mouth before either of them can think too much about that.

He feels something, a soft touch that makes his eyes fly open. Jim’s hand on his face, stroking over his cheek and then sliding into his hair, and Jim looks at him with some kind of desperate wonder.   
  
He moans without meaning to, and wonders what the hell’s happening to him.   
  
Jim’s head falls back at the extra stimulation. His fingers clench before he stills them. “Fuck, you’re...” He drags his eyes back to Adam like he can’t bear to look away, even though his eyes keep fluttering shut. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous, that’s… Christ.”  
  
Heat crawls up Adam’s spine, into Adam’s face. He never expected this, any of it. He needs to do more, have more… He’s pretty sure he’s going crazy, and if he’s feeling like this, it has to be ten times worse for Jim. He closes his eyes. Then he swallows and lets Jim into his throat. (It was a weird day when he found out the resp augs let him turn off his gag reflex. And he knows that one isn’t in his file.)  
  
Jim gasps and curses and Adam puts a hand on his hip, holding Jim still while he adjusts. He doesn’t expect the low, satisfied noise Jim makes at that. He opens his eyes and sees Jim pinned there and getting nowhere, watching him with dazed lust, eyes following his arm and the way he doesn’t even have to strain.  
  
Yeah. Okay, so maybe Jim’s not exactly scared of his augs.  
  
Adam goes down, taking in as much as he can.  
  
“ _Fuck,_  you're amazing,” Jim hisses, and then, “Please...”  
  
Adam loosens his hand and feels Jim’s hips stutter before Jim struggles to still them, letting out a low, broken groan. Jim’s eyes slide shut, and he looks like he’s half out of his mind. The desperation makes Adam’s own breath hitch and goes straight to his dick.

That’s more than enough, but then he feels those strong, warm hands on his face. One brushes back through his hair as Jim gasps, still with that trembling disbelief, leaving trails of warmth in its wake. Adam moans low in his throat and knows he’s leaving a damp spot on his combats, and he feels the sound go through Jim, too, feels him gasp and shudder, hips twitching -  
  
And then he lets the augs take over, and feels the familiar fluttering in his throat. Knows Jim’s going to feel it too.  
  
“Rebreather?” Jim pants. “You can…? God.”  
  
It blurs then, into the  _yes, perfect_  of Jim in him and those warm, trembling hands touching his neck, his face, his hair and Jim cursing, telling him praises and profanities every time he slides down slick and slow, with every soft pulse of the rebreather.  
  
Jim starts to lose it, hands clenching white-knuckled. He shoves them back against the wall – but Adam just takes one and settles it in his hair. Jim tugs, a question, and Adam closes his eyes and savours it with a soft noise that’s yes even if he can’t say it.  
  
Adam loses himself in the fullness, the fingers touching his face, the roughness of Jim’s voice calling him  _beautiful, fucking perfect, never had anyone like you, oh God, Adam…_ Adam tells himself Jim probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying, but every piece of it drives him higher until he realises too late that he’s trying to hump thin air, and he takes his hand off Jim’s hip to palm his own aching erection through his pants, looking for even a little relief, moaning around Jim’s dick.   
  
Jim’s panting, eyes closed and mouth open as he fucks into Adam’s mouth. There’s colour in his cheeks and spreading down to his heaving chest, his shirt’s creased, and he looks like every dream Adam’s pretended not to have since London. Better. Jim’s hand tugs at Adam’s hair, a hand feeling for Adam’s jaw to try and ease him back, and he grits out a warning. “I’m going to - “  
  
Adam pointedly stays where he is and swallows around Jim’s dick.  
  
Jim’s eyes blink open and meet his, and Adam sees it dawn on Jim that he’s getting off on this. That it isn’t just doing a favour. Adam watches the realisation shake through him, and then Jim’s panting, "Oh God,  _Adam._ " Hips stuttering, he thrusts deep and spills down Adam’s throat, hand clenching in Adam’s hair as he lets out a rough gasp that's almost a sob.  
  
Adam swallows and moans at the taste, at the way Jim clutches at him and breathes his name, at watching Jim lose it. He feels his own dick twitch, his hips restless against his hand as it all drags him closer to the edge. Jim touches Adam’s face, his neck, gasping and trying to find purchase like Adam’s an anchor. Adam's heart hammers in his ears, and he tries to let that drown out the part of him begging for this not to end.  
  
Adam pulls off eventually, breathless, licking his lips. They’re damp and swollen, and he’s pretty sure the half-hour he spent styling his hair this morning’s just been wasted. He can feel it falling into his face, still wild from Jim’s hands. From the way Jim stares at him, he knows it’s obvious what he’s just done.  
  
“Been a while?” he rasps.

Jim sags against the wall, looking like all the anger and pain’s gone right out of him and there’s just startled relief. His eyes open. he looks at Adam, wide-eyed, still trying to steady his breathing. “Yeah. And it wasn’t you. Wasn’t like this.”

Adam looks up and realises what the hell he just asked. Wonders, suddenly, if he’s the first guy Jim’s had since the divorce. He tries to sound casual and not like he’s just gone down on his superior officer and savoured every goddamn second of it. “Guessing you’ve never been with an aug before.”  
  
Jim’s voice is too soft. So’s the look in his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”  
  
Adam wipes his mouth – yeah, that part was easier with natural hands - runs his tongue over his teeth and pauses, but Jim doesn’t seem to be getting hard again, and he still looks sated. His heart rate’s returning to normal, and his core temp’s coming down.  
  
So that’s it. Adam tries not to feel hollow, and climbs to his feet. He surreptitiously licks his lips and tastes come, and tries not to wince. He’s gonna have to head to a bathroom after this, get a look at himself and clean up, or he’ll be the talk of the office. They both will.  
  
Something crosses Jim’s face, and then he cups Adam’s cheek, stroking a thumb over his lower lip. Alright, Adam thinks, so maybe he missed a spot -  
  
But Jim just kisses him softly, deeply, and Adam hums into it in surprise. If Jim minds the taste of himself, it doesn’t show. It feels almost… _Tender_ is the wrong word. Or the right one, but it’s too damn dangerous to think.  
  
Jim draws back, and Adam nearly jumps when the sound of a zip breaks the silence. Jim buttons his slacks and says, eyes flickering down to Adam’s crotch, “You look like you could use some help.”  
  
Adam looks down and realises too late that even with the cold ache in his chest, his dick’s still straining against damp fabric and canvas. And that he can hear himself panting. He’s probably wild-eyed and looking like a goddamn mess. He tries not to be embarrassed, because it’s years since he’s done this and he can keep himself in check; he should blame the augs, but he has a feeling he’d be lying. “You don’t have to - “ It won’t help with the CASIE burnout.  
  
“I know. Just...” Jim leans forward. “...let me?”  
  
Adam swallows, and wonders whether it’s too much. Because he’s realising he wants this, badly. And he doesn’t know how the hell he’s meant to step back into the office and _yes sir_ when he knows Jim wants him like this, when Jim’s come in his mouth and pulled him closer and kissed him like he needs him. He figured that’d be something for fantasies, maybe. He expected something to get it out of Jim’s system, something perfunctory and gruff the way Jim acts so much of the time. Not this. Never this.  
  
He loses the fight with himself, in the end. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah.”  
  
Jim's hands are at his belt before he can say anything else, like that this is a terrible idea. Metal rings out in the silence. Jim moves to shift Adam’s pants down – and then runs his thumbs wonderingly over the metal of Adam’s hips. His hands stray upward, under Adam’s turtleneck, and push it up. Adam shivers when Jim’s palms run over his abdomen, trace down his sides.   
  
Jim says quietly, “You’re strong. Knew it couldn’t all be the augs.”   
  
Adam feels heat creep into his face. “Plenty of augs under there.”  
  
“Yeah, but you’re...” Jim exhales, and then his hands return to Adam’s pants. “Yeah, you really have got no idea.” He pulls Adam’s boxers down with them, and then pauses, eyes dark and hands on Adam’s hips.  
  
Adam closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing, keeping his hips still. It has to be obvious how hard he is, how much he wants this… and then he realises Jim’s eyes are admiring. Jim’s hands run over Adam’s ass, his thighs, gentle but curious over black myomer. Then he licks a hand, eyes meeting Adam’s, and gets it around Adam’s dick.  
  
Adam shudders and tries to stifle the noises he’s making - and then he’s gasping against Jim’s mouth as Jim kisses him like a guy who hasn’t just come, deep and starving, tongue tracing against his while he gives him a long, firm stroke. Adam thrusts up into Jim’s hand, moaning into Jim’s mouth.  
  
Jim kisses his beard, his cheek, and murmurs into his ear, “God, Adam. If things were different, I’d let you ruin this suit.”  
  
Adam makes a soft, helpless sound and leans a hand against the wall to catch himself. Instantly Jim’s hand is at his back, steadying, but Jim’s rhythm barely stutters before he gets it back. Adam puts his face against Jim’s neck, pressing closer, against damp skin and stubble. Jim’s still strong and solid against him, breathing heavy, muscle flexing as he drags Adam closer to the edge.   
  
Adam manages, “If things were – _ah_ – different, you’d already be at my place.” And they’d have all the time in the world. And no conspiracy waiting in the shadows. And he wouldn’t be here because of a damn malfunctioning CASIE. His free hand falls to Jim’s hip, trying to find steady ground. He’s so hard it hurts. His breath hitches, trembles. “ _Jim.”_  
  
Adam feels control slipping away by the second. He mouths at Jim’s jaw and anywhere he can reach gratefully, blindly, hand clenching against Jim’s hip, burning up with every hard slide of Jim’s skin against his.   
  
“Beautiful, come on,” Jim breathes. He’s methodical in this as he is about everything else, strong precise hands and a rough voice, wrist twisting brutally on the upstroke.   
  
Adam shudders against him, desperately fucking against hot skin and a strong grip, and tries to breathe. It's too good. The edge is rushing up to meet him too fast. Adam raises his head -  
  
\- and Jim kisses him, soft and simple like it’s all he wants in the world, and Adam falls apart. He gives a couple hard, desperate thrusts and comes, finally letting go, the servos in his knees working double-time and his vision whiting out as he gasps against Jim's lips. Jim steadies him and wrings low, desperate noises out of him, mouth brushing against his; strokes him through it until Adam sags, forehead against Jim’s, panting through the aftershocks.  
  
He feels Jim’s free hand rub down his back. That same quiet tenderness, the kind Jim would probably never admit to out loud. Suddenly Adam wonders if this was how Jim used to touch his husband. And he has no damn right to wonder that. This isn’t that kind of sex. He swallows, and draws back, feeling Jim tense.   
  
Jim exhales and steps back, too. It’s already coming back in increments: the straight back and the distance and the clenched teeth. The pissed-off stuffed-suit the other side of the desk who won’t let anybody know him and was ready to die alone for a mission. The guy the analysts wince and avoid in the corridors.  
  
Adam tucks himself back in and zips his flies. Starts on his belt. Tries to steady his breathing, even though he can feel the heat in his face.  
  
Jim doesn’t look at him. He just crosses the room to one of the gym horses and grabs his jacket, dragging the handkerchief from the breast pocket and wiping his hands, grimacing. He pockets it and tucks his shirt back into his slacks, too silent. Too intent.  
  
“Jim,” Adam says roughly, watching Jim lick his lips.  
  
Jim looks up, caught-out, like he’s surprised Adam noticed. He winces. “God, we need to clean up.” He’s still a little flushed as he buttons his collar, covering up the start of beard burn Adam hadn't realised he was leaving.  
  
“ _Jim.”_  
  
Jim’s voice hardens, that  _don’t be stupid, Jensen_  tone that sets Adam’s teeth on edge. “You know this can’t happen again. I don’t think there’s much to talk about.”

Adam’s hands clench at his sides, and then he grits his teeth and hisses out a breath. Puts his face in his hand. “ _Shit_. How the hell am I meant to give you CASIE training?”  
  
Jim snorts. “You think I know?”  
  
Adam grabs for something he knows, something that isn’t gentle hands on his skin or gasped, broken praises, or the way Jim sounds when he comes. “You’re right. The bathrooms aren’t that far. We’ve still got a little time.” He swallows. “But … Jim.”  
  
Jim’s still rolling down his sleeves, buttoning his cuffs. Won’t even look at him. “Don’t.”  
  
Adam reaches for Jim’s arm but pulls his hand back, uncertain. “Did I… uh, did I hurt you?”  
  
“I’m fine,” is Jim’s gruff response. He finally looks up. Something crosses his face. “You’re really not used to doing this with the augs, are you?” He pauses, and catches Adam’s expression too fast, before Adam can hide it. “This was your first time since you got augmented, wasn’t it?” He puts his head in his hands. “Jesus Christ.”  
  
“I didn’t have a CASIE fucking with my head,” Adam says, quietly. “I get it, we aren’t talking about this. But I swear, Jarreau wanted me in the American branch, I can - ” Yeah, he’s got an investigation going on here but he can pretend to leave. Go underground. Something, anything other than this.  
  
Jim raises his head to glare in incredulous fury. “You think I didn’t  _want - ?_ ”  
  
“Getting me off wasn’t gonna fix the CASIE.”  
  
“No. No, it wasn’t. And I did it anyway. Because I wanted to.” He grimaces. “How much of that stuff’s still in my system?”  
  
Adam sighs and consults the CASIE, and… huh.  
  
“Adam?”  
  
He blinks, opening his mouth. He knows he’s been silent too long.  
  
“You alright?”  
  
He swallows, and tries to find the words. “I didn’t reactivate it. According to this, the CASIE effects should’ve fully filtered out at 4.13.” He assesses Jim’s life signs and finds… no traces. Retests.  
  
Jim stares at him. “Right,” he says, eventually. The words are weak: “That was about… sometime when I had my tongue down your throat. The… the first time I kissed you.” He puts his head in his hands.  
  
Adam shrugs and tries to keep his voice level. No-one else would spot the fact it isn’t. But Jim know him too well. “Maybe it was still wearing off. Or we got caught up in it all. It’s not that simple.”  
  
Jim glares at a wall and grits out under his breath, “Or I wanted a fucking excuse.”  
  
That sends heat up Adam’s spine. He tries to focus. “If you’re not one of the fringe cases, if it’s not... the other side effects... it’s just the verbal persuasion. Right? The main secret you were worried about is out, we could… try continuing the training. Maybe not now, but it usually takes a while.”  
  
Jim snorts. “What, so we can barely stay on track while I try to stop myself blurting out how I - “ Jim closes his mouth so fast it clicks, and winces.  
  
“How you feel?” Adam finishes, before he can help himself. He tries to keep himself on track, tries to think of anything but Jim’s hands on him and the fact he’s still a little weak from the best orgasm he’s had in years. Just from a damn handjob, because he’s that gone. And he knows it. He tries to say something professional, but instead he just steps forward and closes the distance between them, steps slow. “You meant all that.”  
  
Jim sighs, pained. “I’d been fucking truth-drugged.”  
  
“This is real,” Adam says, one more time.  
  
Jim swallows, and says, very quietly, “I told you. Don’t do that.”  
  
Anger’s easier than shame. “Do what? Admit it? Look, I’m not gonna announce it in the middle of the goddamn office, I wouldn’t do that. You never want me to mention it again once we’re out the door? Sure. But come on. It’s just the two of us. I should never have heard that, and I'm sorry, but... it’s out of the bag, now. Can’t put it back in. And we’ve just gotta live with that.”  
  
Jim just glares back at him, jaw set - and it’d be like always, but Adam can remember what it felt like to kiss that mouth, knows what it’s like when Jim finally takes the stick out of his ass and lets himself breathe. He's always gonna know that, now.   
  
Jim snaps, “Stop putting yourself through this. We walk out of here and it’s done.”  
  
“I… I know it should be. I know it’s a damn stupid idea. But that didn’t feel like it was just scratching an itch.” Adam watches the way Jim’s eyes slide away and his teeth grit. “I’m wrong, right? That was just my imagination? Cause I remember when I saw you in hospital. And I remember that time we all went for drinks, too.” He sees Jim’s eyes widen just a little, mouth opening, and knows he’s onto something. This he doesn’t need the CASIE for. “I remember the way you looked at me. And I thought I saw something I… wasn’t allowed to see. Then I figured I was just kidding myself.” His voice is too raw. “And that was the last damn time you  _talked_  to me.”  
  
There’s a flash of something on Jim’s face – hurt, understanding, sadness,  _something_  - and then it’s gone and Jim’s jaw hardens. “You’re a better man than this. I am, too. Chain of command’s there for a reason,  _Jensen._ ”  
  
Adam can’t help himself. The words are pouring out, spilling, and it’s almost like he’s the one who’s gotten CASIE’d. But he remembers what happened in that kitchen, and he remembers the exhaustion on Jim’s face, the way he still isn’t back to normal even while he tries to pretend. And Adam knows who did it. He knows what not questioning orders gets you. “Yeah, cause chain of command protected you in London. Chain of command never sabotaged your investigation and asked you to frame Rucker because it was easier.” When Jim tilts his head, furious, Adam soldiers on, “That one was obvious. Why do you think I pulled you up on GARM?”  
  
“I remember that report. I know they drugged you. You think I’d have left you to die in the fucking snow?” Jim’s pale, wide-eyed.  
  
“Not anymore,” Adam says softly, stepping forward. “Jim, listen to me...”  
  
Jim just backs up and shakes his head, his eyes closing. “Look,” and it’s pleading, “anyone else would be lucky to have you. Just not me. Pick someone else.”  
  
“What if I don’t want anyone else?”  
  
Jim’s jaw hardens. “Then you get no-one. And that’s the end of this conversation.”  
  
“You know something’s wrong. Dubai, London, the Rucker arrest… You know this place is falling apart. What’s breaking one rule compared to that?”  
  
He can see Jim wavering; that doesn't take a CASIE, he knows him well enough. Jim's eyes slide away from his, Jim's mouth opening... and then Jim stares at him. “Jesus. I can’t believe you’d ask me that.  _You_.”  
  
“Any other time, any other place, I wouldn’t. But you know something’s rotten. We both do. And you nearly died.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jim snarls. “Which means that when everything else is fucking corrupt,  _we have to be better. I_  have to be better. Having my superiors on my arse about ARC was bad enough. I nearly bowed to it.”  
  
“They nearly goddamn killed you. You know someone had warned them ahead of time so they could ambush you.”  
  
“Yeah. I know. And when I find them - “  
  
Adam's voice is too loud. “You were gonna die for the chance that I could maybe save the delegates and I had to watch you bleeding out, like any of that made sense - ”  
  
The kiss cuts him off. It’s gentle, barely there, and Adam chases it, desperately -   
  
Jim draws back and says quietly, “I’m still your superior officer. Until this is done, until I find out where the rot set in, I can’t be anything else. It’s hard enough trying to keep your soul in this business.”  
  
Adam exhales through the weight on his chest, because he knows what a kiss goodbye feels like. And damn it, not this time. He’s lost enough people to this damn chase. He’s kept enough people at arm’s length, and it’s never saved them. “Yeah. It is.”  
  
“I can’t get someone else in for CASIE training, it’d take weeks with the London cleanup and the borders the way they are, so we’ll just have to try and brave this. Stay focused. Ending the sessions this fast’ll just raise more questions.”  
  
“You think we can do that?”  
  
Jim sighs. “I don’t know,” he admits. Then he meets Adam’s eye. “Get yourself cleaned up. I ought to do the same.” He heads back to pull on his sweater, and Adam unlocks the doors with a wave of his hand. Jim nods his thanks and then heads out, jacket over his arm. Like none of this ever happened.  
  
The cameras come back on with a click of Adam’s fingers. He watches Jim go, and decides. He knows what Alex would say, but... Jim already knows something’s wrong. It might take a damn long time to turn him, but Adam’s gonna do it.  
  
He breathes,  _snik_ s the shields back on, and grabs his coat.


End file.
